you cup soft breath in your palms,
offering it to the stars as an exchange...

the worst part is the after hours, when floating
memories blur into one another kaleidoscopically...

i wonder what it is about april specifically
that had it stamped the transitionary month...

life agitates in the cracks between the heart
and the soul, blooming in whole, not parts...

terrified of the light, we die with a mouthful
of words that took root on our tongues...

i know you know how it feels to stir in the...
i used to pen you poems, a bakers dozen or so a...

and the years come cascading down;
i’ll be the first to admit that i dream way too...

i dreamt of you again;
this time in parts...

absence is the gentle undressing of self; what...
the ocean churns itself in playful delight...

you sink carnivorous teeth into the
sweetbread, lamenting that it tasted...

this is an attempt at a spoken word piece, wrote...

transparent words; the strings still dangle
from the same lips that sprouted them...